LIFE AND LIES #1 : Trouble in Paradise

It's 3 AM. I can't find any sleep. I lock my 1BHK flat and call the lift. It's an old-style one. I am worried that the beeping sound it's making would awaken the inmates. Quickly, I shut the doors. The elevator takes me four floors down to the ground floor. Again, I shut the door, quickly.

The night is a bit chilly. The prevailing silence in the compound is only interrupted by some dogs occasionally barking in the distance. My footsteps must have awakened the night guard for he shakes away his awkward sleeping posture. I don't recognize him. Must be new, I think. I move closer and enquire.

It's his first night in this enclave. He's filling in for someone just for today. Employed by some agency that manages guards from one place to another, he is usually stationed at some resort in Phulbari, Siliguri. There, he works his shift from 8 AM to 4 PM and stays with three other people in a single room. His salary is 6000/- per month. The rent I'm paying for my 1BHK flat is 6000/- per month. 1500/- is cut from his salary for food and uniform. Of what is left some he sends home back in Coochbehar. His family lives in a small village located fifteen kilometres from the main town. His father is a farmer. And he's working here as a night guard with a 6000/- per month salary. Somehow, it must have been an improvement over being a farmer or he wouldn't be here.

I take his leave. As I reach the elevator, I turn to look back. He has gotten up and is walking around in his boots, cap and jacket. A long night awaits him in the open while I resign to the comforts of my flat, to my bed that I had bought recently for 5500/- where I lay awake sifting through the problems of my life.

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Whispers and Words #1

*** Finding solace In an air-conditioned space, The city slept While I wandered the streets, Restless, Perfecting the ending Of a sentence. The cool breeze made me forget That it was a summer night. Then, out of nowhere, A cold whisper Sent a shiver down my spine. "You have to choose, my friend. Be a writer or be content." "Why can't I be both?" I asked the emptiness. And the whisper scoffed at me, "You and your consistent pursuit To get the best of both worlds. Buckle up then! You are about to be tested." I stumbled over a rock And found the ending I was looking for. "If a river wants to meet the sea, Twisting and turning, It will somehow find its way Even through the mountains." If a whisper could smile, It did, and said, "We will see." *** I don't have a million readers - not by choice, obviously - just a handful. But they mean to me as much as the millions would do. And one of those readers reminded me that I had taken a lon...

LIFE AND LIES #61 | The Summit Within

Dehradun to Sankri On an early morning, towards the end of March, I was sipping a cup of tea in Dehradun, surrounded by a bunch of strangers loading their backpacks on a traveller which was going to take us to Sankri, the starting point of Kedarkantha Trek. A thought struck me. Somewhere around this place, not so long ago, Ruskin Bond was racking his brains to come up with the name of a fictitious town. Subsequently, he came up with the name: Dehra, having spent his early adolescent days in Dehradun, the place which inspired many of his characters and stories. Ingenious, huh? I am struggling with a similar challenge. Let’s see what I come up with. I finished my tea. And soon we headed on our way. The first view of the mountains came when we were about to reach Mussourie. A smile spread across my face automatically in its unique way, like it happens when you meet an old friend after a long time. I was hoping to spot Cambridge Book Depot on the way, or even Ruskin Bond if I w...

Whispers and Words #6 | On Your Shoulders

*** Strutting on the dais, Dressed up for the occasion, In a flurry of footsteps, You collect your degree. A weight off your shoulders, Your joy knows no end. Dashing out of the crowded elevator, Your bag single-strapped, In a room of sparkling white, You deliver your presentation. Green as grass, still you feel Head and shoulders above all. Trudging past the empty bullpens, Your bag double-strapped, Late into the night, You punch out for the day. With your shoulder to the wheel, Seven years have gone by so fast. *** This poem commemorates my completion of seven years in corporate life. Although the time passed in my presence, I still find it hard to believe. Do you share my feelings? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

Whispers and Words of M R Maiti

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